Absinthe with Faust
by KH Rockin' Robins collabs
Summary: A vampire horde takes up residence in the mansion at the edge of town, and a series of disappearences follow... Darkness has arrived, its purpose bleak, and only a feeble few stand in its way. Multiple pairings; collaboratively written
1. Chapter 1

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**Note: **Everything posted on this account (this story included) will be written collaboratively by several different writers. For more information, please view our profile page. Thanks and enjoy!

**Summary:** A vampire horde takes up residence in the mansion at the edge of town, and a series of disappearences follow... Darkness has arrived, its purpose bleak, and only a feeble few stand in its way.

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**Absinthe with Faust**

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**Writer: lostscore**

"So what does everyone think? Home?" Marluxia stood in front of the door to the somewhat ancient-looking and weather beaten castle, gazing up at it reverently and eying the remainder of his group with just enough hint of a fang to imply that he didn't actually care what any of them thought. His gaze flickered over each of them in turn, daring them to question his decision.

Lexaeus shrugged and made a faint noise of something like approval, his indication that he was as pleased with the place as he was going to get.

"It's got no windows." Larxene snapped, determined as always to get a word in edgewise. Marluxia didn't take offense to her attitude, as next to himself, she was the youngest Vampire there. While Marluxia had proved himself a natural leader and therefore suited to be entrusted with the wellbeing of his fellows, Larxene had no such power and often felt the need to assert herself in some capacity.

"Which makes it perfect." the red-haired behemoth standing beside her suggested, and the woman fell silent, knowing this was an indisputable fact. Vampires could not survive in sunlight, so a castle that was wrapped in perpetual darkness was ideal.

"Have we got a place to shove the brat in there?"

"Yes Vexen, we'll put you in the basement." Another redhead deadpanned, apparently nonplussed by the rudeness. He gripped the hand of the small vampire child to whom Vexen had been referring and she gave him a calming, reassuring squeeze.

Marluxia watched the exchange, his expression never changing though distaste and apprehension flowed through every part of him. Namine was the reason for and the most important part of his plan to leave Xemnas' coven. Their former leader had been fascinated with her more pedestrian talents and it would have only been a matter of time until he'd learned of her true potential. That was a commodity Marluxia had long moved towards gathering for himself. Unfortunately, Namine had fascinated Axel as well, but not for reasons of power. The redheaded vampire who was even now doting on the girl had an unusually non-vampiric habit of forming obsessions with others. For one reason or another, Namine allowed the advances and the result was a partnership that threatened his plans.

"Then it's settled. We'll stay here." Marluxia flashed a triumphant grin around at all of them as he pushed open the heavy double doors, throwing a growing patch of moonlight onto the chipped and crumbling marble floor. He was certain that the rest of his group would remain happy here and not at all suspicious. He intended to let them do, hunt and otherwise come and go as they would. Xemnas' rules and restrictions had convinced the majority to follow him, so it would be a simple matter to keep them happy.

Only Namine seemed at all apprehensive of the new quarters. Vexen and Lexaeus quickly located a flight of stairs leading to subterranean levels, while Zexion was content to examine this floor. Larxene followed by Axel lead the girl higher and higher into the towers. Her voice floated away, wispy and frail. "This place has a strange energy…"

"Shut up." Axel snarled, hitching his prisoner along with unnatural strength by one leg. The free foot kicked violently out at the vampire, in spite of the long trail of rapidly drying red that the dragging was leaving on the white floor.

Paying no apparent attention to the violent blows the other man was dealing to his lower back and sides, Axel stopped and used his free hand to open a nearby door. The place was just as violently white as the rest of the castle.

"Hi, Namine. I brought you something." Axel gestured to the man and spared only a brief glance for the room's other occupant.

If Namine and Marluxia had been doing anything that had been interrupted, it wasn't obvious. "Thank you, Axel." She smiled politely, earning herself a dazzling grin in return. "I'm tired tonight though; do you think you could help me?"

Nodding, Axel dropped the man who immediately struggled to his feet. The wound in the back of his head was clearly making him dizzy, but his impressive size kept him moving.

"This one liked to torture and molest young children." Axel said conversationally to the room at large, as he leaned down to let Namine support herself on his arm.

Marluxia frowned, this time not bothering to hide his distaste since it would easily be interpreted as directed towards Axel's victim. The real problem however was that it was important to keep Namine under the impression that she was weak and needed help to survive. While Axel was particularly good at the manipulation of humans and fond of dealing just-desserts to the guilty, powerful people like this man may serve to strengthen the powers Marluxia was taking careful pains to awaken on his own terms.

The man, though probably still not entirely aware what he was in for, was nevertheless desperately trying to escape, bloodying his hands as he smashed uselessly at the heavy door. As Axel and Namine came up behind him, he made the mistake of looking around at her, and that was all it took. Axel stepped away, returning to Marluxia's side.

It was almost comical to see, this hulking figure staring transfixed down at the much shorter girl, the former of the two slowly cracking. It was almost imperceptible at first, a twitching of the lip, clenching of the fist. Then suddenly, the man was screaming, writhing on the floor and clawing at his own eyes.

"Please, make this stop! I don't want to remember!" he was honestly crying now and Namine bent to his side with an emotion that could possibly be called sympathy. The gentle smile that graced her lips was perverted by the hint of sharply pointed incisors.

"It'll be over soon." Namine opened her lips wider, the man too hysterical to notice her turning his head to the side.

"Must have been bad." Axel and Marluxia observed the spectacle calmly. "I wonder what horrible things a guy like that would remember?"

"Hm." Was all Marluxia had to say. "Axel, don't you feel that someone like that is a bit dangerous for Namine? I know you wouldn't want her to get hurt."

"Isn't weakness what's holding her back from using her power?" Axel asked, a hint of confusion crossing his features.

"Yes, and no. We're aware Namine has the power to merge worlds, correct? Our goal is to have her merge Earth and Hell. She could do that in a heart beat."

"Naturally, like with all special and mighty powers there's a catch that prevents people like us from abusing them." Axel nodded, understanding.

"That's the size of it. Namine's control will only work on beings with memories and souls. Most demons I've encountered don't have souls to be controlled, and most of them are stronger than Vampires. In spite of the irony, I'd rather not do all this work, just to end up a slave."

"What then, do you intend to do about it?"

"I intend for Vexen to build me a test subject. A being without a soul that Namine will learn to control the same way that she would a normal human."

"Will that work?"

"No idea, but it's a start." Marluxia strode past Namine as she rose from the now-corpse, scrubbing her mouth discreetly with her hand. "And clean that up." Marluxia nodded at the body.

"I'm tired Axel. Could you…?" Namine turned her head to the side, apparently embaressed.

Axel nodded. "I'll dispose of it for you. He picked her up, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his shoulder.

"I know Axel."

"Know what?" Axel turned his face to the side to nuzzle her hair, still smiling.

"About what Marluxia wants." She sniffled, "I don't want to do it."

"I'll find a way to stop him." Axel promised, without thinking.

Namine leaned up to kiss his cheek, and Axel returned the affection, but his mind was all too clearly focused on his new task. So Marluxia and Vexen were going to try and create a human replica without a soul, was that it? He wasn't sure what kind of success manipulation would have, but maybe a little charm would bring better luck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Writer: ohkamimajin**

The redhead stopped mid-movement- he had been about to leave- but now he turned back around, his green eyes observing Namine with a glint of incredulity. It was a curious statement, not just for the fact that they had only just arrived at the castle not that long ago, now sitting in the room that had been reserved for Namine, but for something else as well. It was a simple statement, but her tone had held the tiniest bit of demand, something that was unheard of for her. Even when stating her opinion, she tended to do so as if she were asking a person more than telling. And yet as his green eyes met her soft blue there was an uncharacteristic hardness there, a resolution they didn't normally hold, though it was faint, and well hidden behind the false-innocence exuded by her eternally child-like appearance.

And normally that would be more than enough for Axel. Normally Namine's typical, unsure demeanor was enough. He preferred the small girl's company more than any of the others'. He was happy with her around, and therefore it was only right that he do everything he could to provide her happiness as well, especially when he knew the other's were making no attempts to do so. But this was one request he was no inclined to meet.

He unleashed a short laugh which implied that he found the idea silly and childish, "And where exactly would you like to go?"

Namine's frown was brought on by a combination of indignation that Axel had brushed off the idea so easily, and realization of the fact that she really hadn't thought the notion that far through, "I don't know, but somewhere...somewhere without Marluxia and Vexen. Just us."

Axel chuckled, ruffled her hair, but instead of the motion being affectionate as it normally would be, it was belittling, "You know as well as I do that that's out of the question. It's not safe for our kind to wander around anyway, and Xemnas is still displeased about us leaving, if he were to send his followers after us...I can't take them all on my own."

Axel was making excuses. He didn't worry about dangers like that, in fact the challenge probably excited him. Typically Namine wouldn't be so bothered; she was used to not getting her way. But Axel rarely denied her anything, and this he had promised her, promised to protect her. Wasn't this the easiest way to do it, to get away? It wasn't like Axel particularly enjoyed the company of the others, he complained about them all regularly. So why refuse to leave so steadfastly?

Axel placed a chaste kiss on Namine's forehead, standing up to leave again before she had a chance to return it. "You look tired, why don't you get some rest?" His way of making it clear that the conversation was over, and he was quickly out the door anyway, leaving Namine pouting on the bed.

Axel felt the tiniest pang of guilt as he walked slowly down the hall, but he was always quick to ignore these fleeting feelings and ever quicker to forget them. Namine would forgive him, and she probably already had, if she'd even been upset in the first place. He wasn't afraid of Marluxia, he could easily keep Namine safe even with him around. And he was intrigued by the other aspect of Marluxia's plan; this soulless creation he had spoken of was something Axel had to see for himself.

Perhaps even make use of it himself.

"Have you made any progress, Vexen?"

"None, although that's still more that can be said of your work upstairs."

By the nature of the creatures living in it the castle was always shrouded in darkness. But in the lower levels where the elder vampire dwelled this darkness was even more pronounced, and the shadows enhanced the look of fury on the pink-haired man's face, "What, exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said, Marluxia." Vexen replied matter-of-factly, "You seem to be taking steps backwards in regards to your work with the girl."

"I've barely even begun with her yet how co-"

"You've allowed Axel to grow far too close to her."

Marluxia laughed, "That's what you're so worried about? It means nothing, and regardless, it's not as if I have any control over Axel's strange tendencies."

"That's precisely my point. Axel's unpredictable. He's an uncontrolled variable, a risk to our plan, and the deeper he is entangled in it the more dangerous he could become."

"Please, Axel is absolutely no danger to me. If he gets in the way I'll just take care of him myself."

Vexen studied Marluxia's face carefully. At the very least, he seemed confident in his own statement, "If you say so, what goes on above ground is hardly my business at the moment regardless. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get back to my work."


	3. Chapter 3

**Writer: finem**

Marluxia stalked the halls of their new home, face fixed in an expression of exquisite fury after the conversation he'd just had with Vexen

Marluxia stalked the halls of their new home, face fixed in an expression of exquisite fury after the conversation he'd just had with Vexen. It had been several weeks since they had taken up residence in this place...several weeks of failure on the part of the elder vampire to complete the simple project that he had been given, and several weeks during which the relationship between Namine and Axel had continued to grow as had the power that was hidden within the girl.

In that much, Marluxia was pleased. Strength that none of them had imagined possible was awakening in Namine and it was a near certainty that she would be able to accomplish all of their goals with ease when the time came. The bond between the two was enough to guarantee that Namine would do whatever Axel asked of her, so the final step was getting the subject needed for Namine to practice her control of soulless beings!

That brought things to where Marluxia was now, storming into Larxene's quarters, snarling as he slammed the door behind him.

"A source!" he snapped at the nymph's raised eyebrow. "He says he needs a source in order to create his little doll. It's been over a month and the bastard couldn't have mentioned this before now?!"

"What? Are you talking about old limp-dick down stairs?" the blonde asked, sprawling out over her black satin duvet. "What's got his unibrow in a bunch this time?"

"Apparently, he needs a live human to work from in order to make the damned thing; something to replicate and alter to fit our need. A young one, because apparently, the older they are the more difficult they are to manipulate. He expects me to go out and fetch for him like some kind of errand boy! Does he realize who I am?!"

"Quit whining, it's starting to piss me off," Larxene drawled, stretching languidly. "Just send Zex and Lex out on a hunt. It'll be no problem."

"Other than the fact that the human has to stay alive if we want the replica to function as we want it to, meaning that one of us is going to have to baby-sit a human child for an indeterminate amount of time," Marluxia growled, stepping closer to the bed and looking down at the female with a snarl.

"Not it," she purred smugly, lips curling in silent invitation, "but how about we see if we can do something about all that pent up aggression?"

The flowery male released another snarl before falling to the female on the bed, Larxene laughing darkly as he ripped at her clothing, lapping hungrily at her skin.

In a room in a very different part of the castle, Namine sat, turning her mind's eye away from the two as the scene grew more heated. She had to think carefully on the information she'd just learned. They would be bringing a human to the castle…an outsider. This could be used to her advantage if only she could find the right human; someone who would be able to help her somehow…allow her to escape; someone to turn Axel's attention from the madness that Marluxia was planning so that maybe, he would be willing to leave with her and find a place for themselves in this world.

Namine was no fool. She had no illusions that if she did as Marluxia wanted, she would be anything more than a tool to the elder once the two worlds were bound. All would be chaos, and she would be the heart of it all, but there was little she could do to prevent it on her own. Axel was helping her to grow stronger, but they all had done their job well in keeping her sheltered and naive about the world. She'd need someone to help her get out…

With this thought firmly in mind, she closed her eyes…and reached.

"You realize that Kairi would kill us both if she knew we were doing this, right?"

"And that's exactly why she's never going to find out."

Riku crept through the underbrush surrounding the dark structure hidden deep in the woods. The place was ancient, shrouded in mystery born of legend and time, and everyone in their town knew that there was one rule that was always to be followed concerning the place: stay away.

He didn't understand the strange urging that had awakened in him the previous night to come and see the old place for himself, especially with the rising number of people who had gone missing in recent weeks. It seemed down right stupid to wander into a dark forest on his own at night like this…which, of course, was why he had brought Sora along.

Sora was Riku's best friend on the planet. They had grown up together and had gotten rather good at getting each other into and out of trouble. Though he was a year younger, Sora was usually a fair bit more practical than Riku, but oddly, when the suggestion had come up, the other boy had offered no resistance in coming along. It was almost as if something were drawing them both to the place. Now, as they both came closer and closer to the castle that the townsfolk called Oblivion, both were beginning to wonder at the wisdom their choice in coming out.

"I don't know about this Riku," Sora whispered at his shoulder. "Maybe we should just turn back. People are gonna be looking for us soon."

"C'mon, Sora," Riku mocked, hiding his own nerves behind his usual cocky front. "Don't tell me you're scared. It's just a big, empty old castle. It's stupid that none of us have ever explored it before."

"And maybe there's a reason for—"

"Well. This was easier than expected."

Riku's heart leapt into his throat at the sudden voice in the darkness. His eyes shot up, but all he could see was a pair of looming shadows, one dwarfing the other in height and build.

"Ho shit!" was all he managed before the shadows closed around him. The last thing he was aware of was the sound of Sora voice, calling out his name in terror.


	4. Chapter 4

**Writer: Israelproject**

Elsewhere, in a location clear across the city, deep in its heart as opposed to rotting on its darker fringes, Chaos growled.

A slender, dark-haired man cleared his throat quietly and murmured, "Excuse me."

There was a slight pause, before a short sigh sounded out nearby. "Vincent Valentine," a long-suffering, young voice remarked, "please keep yourself under control. This link is tenuous enough at the best of times, without external distractions interfering." The amber-eyed man said nothing in response, his gaze finding the nine-year-old girl reclining in the rickety, old, dentist's-style chair, heavy, Mako-powered helmet obscuring half her narrow, humourless face. Her lips parted, letting loose one more impatient sigh that left him in no doubt he had tangled overmuch with the thread of her concentration.

He took a slow breath, settling back into the hard chair in which he sat vigil, the only one of their short-handed group with the ability to pull the girl from Darkness if it happened to find her on the planet-based synaptic net dive network. The risks to the girl's sanity were vast, not to mention what could happen to her soul if in fact the Darkness managed to flood her narrow frame before he could reach her in time; but Shelke was nothing if not stoically pragmatic. She was the only one of them capable of the task, and with the entire team counting on her, there was little question in her mind as to whether or not it was worth doing.

She relaxed again, slowly, returning her focus to its proper place, traversing the planet's network in careful search. Chaos had been stirring more and more frequently of late, inherently connected to the black swirl of energy that sought Shelke's presence, just as she, in turn, journeyed to find its source. Vincent had been unsettled for weeks now, letting loose hiccups of anarchic influence at the most inconvenient of times. Shelke might exhale and mutter about keeping himself under control, as if it were a vice to be overpowered and put to sleep, but what the girl failed to acknowledge was the man's increasing difficulty to do just that – thus inspiring this dangerous, necessary SND in the first place, at Leon's low insistence. She hadn't been with them the last time this sort of thing had happened, nor the time before that, and so didn't understand the deeper meaning behind it.

Everyone else was more than aware, though. Vincent felt uncomfortable in their presence at times like this, like a leper in their midst. The fact that none of them treated him differently somehow only managed to make the feeling more acute, as if they were avoiding the subject completely. Their determination to think of him as normal was alienating, to his mind. He shrank from these periods unhappily, but endured them as he had endured all else in his longer than average, pain-filled life. He wasn't the only one to have suffered, and he wouldn't be the last. Just like Shelke, he would perform his duty, even if it separated him from the people he tentatively counted as, if possible for a creature such as himself, friends.

"Vincent Valentine." Her voice held a bite, drawing his attention with a frown, tensing in preparation for bad news, a call to arms if those struggling worms of abyssal energy had found her. Instead, to his mild surprise, she said, "I can feel you thinking from here. Please, stop. It's very off-putting."

He blinked slowly, an eyebrow arching ever-so-slightly. "…I'm sorry?"

She shifted restlessly, fingers tightening and loosening on the soft arms of the chair, two-sizes-too-large shoes knocking together, and for a moment she appeared to be just another fidgety child. "You need to dim your focus," she instructed. "It is filling the room. I can see it on the network, it keeps calling me back here. If you're not capable of it, we'll have to call the session to a close. It's no use me doing this if I can go no further than this one place."

Vincent rubbed a gloved hand over his pale features, pinching the bridge of his nose carefully. He fought away from the deeper, more cheerless thoughts that always haunted. Of course, by trying to not think of it all made it only more difficult to resist. Those bleak musings developed something of a Siren's call, clouding his head. It was only a matter of minutes before Shelke let out a sound of irritation. "Withdrawing," she sighed sharply. The blue glow of the cyclopean eye of the helmet guttered and died, the girl's hands reaching up to disengage it from her skull. Her short brown hair was unveiled, the helmet's hydraulics letting out a faint hiss as it shifted up into its standard resting position. Each quick motion left Vincent blinking, the process over before he even had a chance to protest.

The girl slid from the seat nimbly, shooting him a withering look as she strode past, out of the room. He listened as her shoes clapped against the old wood of the floors, down the narrow hallway, bedroom door slamming moments later, like any pre-adolescent in a temper, despite the fact that her mind was at least a decade ahead of her frail child's body. For a while, Vincent remained where he was, at last allowing his dark thoughts to run rampant without Shelke to reprimand.

For a hollow several minutes, the man was alone with his troubles, Chaos churning slowly beneath his skin, like sludgy tar running through his veins in place of bright, fresh blood. He was half-expecting to be able to slice open his flesh arm and have the murky stuff drip out in evidence of his unnaturalness. But of course, he had bled before, and bled like everyone else… this was just his overriding, default gloominess taking over. Some section of his mind was all too aware of it, reining him in if ever his thoughts went too far in extreme directions. He was human _enough – _or, at least, that's what they told him.

So, with sense taking over – his days of endless brooding were far behind him now, he had been there, done that, bought the t-shirt and all – his hands gripped his knees, gloved on one, clawed on the other, and the thin man pushed to his feet, leaving the room in peace for now, with a mental note to be more restrained next time the SND was performed. His step was graceful as he took the ancient stairs down to the next landing, the top two floors, plus the loft, of the crumbling building belonging to their band of merry and not-so-merry men and women, a base of operations of sorts. They had weathered the most violent of hidden storms here, and would continue to do so, no matter what had come along to disturb the cycle of things this time around.

The second of their two-point-five floors was a wide-open common area, the walls knocked out to make enough room for them to co-exist in the same space without necessarily needing to interact. The fireplace at the end of the sprawling room was billowing smoke, a knot of people around it, coughing and choking as they attempted to fix the problem. Vincent hesitated upon seeing them, tempted to turn and walk back out before he was spotted, find somewhere to lie down for a while as if he needed to recover from the network dive just as Shelke always did. Before his mind was made up, though, a head popped up, short dark hair falling messily around a heart-shaped face, eyes brightly falling on him. Yuffie called, "Vince! Come help, there's something jammed up the chimney!"

He was reluctant, but shifted forward to meet them, several glances thrown his way before attention was returned to the problem at hand. The man paused at the edge of the group, saying nothing. Someone was crouched in the fireplace itself, lower half visible but no more, boots crunching on blackened kindling, scattering charcoal with every muffled grunt of effort. Vincent raised an eyebrow.

"There's – something in there," one man puffed, straightening from the huddle and joining him, blue coat hand-printed with black. When the amber eyes flicked down at him, the man noticed his less-than-clean state, chuckled a little breathlessly, brushed himself off. He grinned at Vincent, the expression dimming slightly as realisation struck. "Is the SND done with already?" Vincent said nothing, turning his head slightly, giving no indication of anything having gone wrong. The other man seemed to read his silence, said, "Ah. Shelke will be sleeping for now, then?"

"…Reeve. Where's the smoke coming from?"

"Ah – well – " The brunet scratched the back of his head. "As I said, there's – something _in _there. It, uh, caught fire. Cloud's trying to get it out with Cait."

As if on cue, there was a vicious burst of, _"Son-of-a-bitch!" _from within the fireplace, the boots scrunching more charred wood as Cloud, it would seem, shifted violently. A flurry of coughing erupted, stifled by the bricks. _"Cait, you goddamn toy, watch where you're stepping!"_

Vincent smiled, just slightly. "He sounds like Cid."

Reeve chuckled, eyebrows rising as he said, "Well – he's been in there a while."

"It's his own fault," Tifa declared, rising from her own position on her belly, trying to peer up into the depths past Cloud. "He won't let anyone else try. Now that he's in there…"

"He's not coming out til he's won," Vincent surmised quietly, as Tifa shrugged, flipped her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms to watch.

"_Ash in my goddamn eyes!"_

Yuffie squeezed her head into the narrow space, hollered, "Quit bitchin' and get that thing outta there! I'm freezing my ass off, Cloud!" She yelped, withdrawing with a scrape along one cheekbone from where the irate blond had shoved her with his hip. She touched the area gingerly, coming away with a trace of blood. "Bastard," she muttered, withdrawing to where the other three stood. She elbowed her way in-between Vincent and Reeve, hands on hips, a glare in place. "If he's not out of there with whatever's blocking it in _five minutes, _I'm getting Cid. _He'll_ get it." When no one replied to this, she added in a bellow, _"I'm cold! Someone warm me up!" _

Vincent sighed, wishing more than ever that he'd just gone to rest in his room. Tifa was saying, "Maybe if you _wore _a little more, you wouldn't have this problem – there are _sweaters _and _jeans _around the place, Yuffie."

Her response was indignant: _"Whaat? _And cover up these legs? Please! How the hell else am I going to snag Vince over there if there's no flesh for him to gawp at?"

Vincent started, blinking rapidly, brow creasing as he suddenly paid attention. "…Wh-"

The young woman rolled her eyes. "Oh, Vincent, wake up and smell the hottie."

"_Got it!" _

The fireplace, a split-second, exploded in a cloud of ash and smoke, sending the crowd back several steps. The air swirled with it, fits of coughing starting up all over the place, people gasping and gurgling through the thick smog, trying to escape it. They burst out into the clearer air, choking, eyes weeping.

Cloud, however, blackest of them all, emerged triumphant. Riding on his shoulders was Reeve's invention, their reconnaissance cat, Cait Sith, the only one of them not having trouble, incapable of breathing in the first place. Cait leapt down as the blond staggered to one side, rubbing his eyes wildly, a grin in place as he, in strangled tones, declared, "Got the fucker!"

"Yeah, Cloud," Yuffie loudly called back, sarcasm thick through the coat of filth sticking to every surface, "you did _great." _She waved her arms over her head. "The place is going to take three days to clean, but hey, _at least we can light the fuckin' fire!" _One very dusky middle finger was flipped in her direction, a startlingly blue eye revealed in amongst the coal-stains.

Vincent, quickest to have moved, the least affected by the drama, turned his attention to the large, gently smouldering mass in the middle of the hearth. It was oddly shaped, strange protrusions becoming evident as the air cleared, a pitch-black, lumpy creation that defied description. Cloud, also fast to recover, mostly out of determination to identify the offending obstruction, tilted his head quizzically, approaching the bundle in a circling fashion.

Reeve, holding a grubby Cait, frowned suddenly, nose wrinkling as he inhaled. "What on earth is that smell?" The others paused to sniff. Beyond sinuses blocked with grime, there was – a distinctive sort of stench hovering.

Wiping his nose with one wrist, Cloud admitted, "It's hair. I could smell it in there – I thought it was me."

"Not the chocobo-spikes!" Yuffie cried in mock-horror, earning a fresh glare.

"But it's coming from the _thing," _Tifa pointed out, with disgust. "What the hell was _hairy _in our _chimney?" _

Cloud and Vincent stepped closer at the same time, from opposite sides of the lump, but where Cloud continued another pace, the dark-haired man locked up, froze in place, eyes widening as, from deep within, Chaos lurched. The world went briefly hazy, a reddish glow swallowing his vision. A low growl rumbled in the man's ears, filled with inescapable whispers, some part of him reaching out towards the creation on the hearth.

The room snapped back into focus, barely a second having passed, and from Vincent's lips leapt the word, "Don't."

Cloud paused in the act of reaching out to touch the mass, everyone in the room stilling at the low, urgent note to his tone. The blond stared up at him. "…What?" He flicked a glance down, blue eyes narrowing. Vincent took a breath.

"You can't touch that. No one but me." He held up his metal claw. "No flesh contact whatsoever. We need Aerith to make something to counteract what we breathed in." His gaze focused sharply on Cloud, who straightened slowly. "You most desperately; you touched it directly – you're about to be very sick." In response to the fear that blew coldly through the room, he said, "It's diseased."

"Diseased?"

"What the hell, Vincent?"

He lowered his eyes. "It's crawling with Darkness."

Cloud snapped his hands to his shirt, scrubbing them frantically against the fabric, suddenly breathing faster, as low murmurs of shock burst from the others. Tifa strode forward, darting dangerously close to the mass, grabbed the poker from the hearth and shifted once again out of range. As Cloud backed up sharply, looking pale, the woman jabbed at the intruder, unfolded it from its balled-up state. It flopped, unfurled, and suddenly cries exploded around the room, as wings flapped in a dead fashion to the ground, the creature taking shape as it was jolted out of its cramped state.

"What the hell _is _it?" Cloud demanded, as Reeve let out a strangled noise, Yuffie gripping his sleeve. Cait Sith jumped down, scuttled close, Vincent and Tifa backing off as the cat grabbed hold of the diseased beast, letting out an exclamation in his thick accent. "It's a bird! A crow!"

"Biggest goddamn crow _I _ever saw," Yuffie said nervously. "And – it's diseased? With _Darkness?" _

"What's it doing in our chimney?" Cloud asked softly, shaken.

Chaos slithered under Vincent's skin. "It's to do with whatever's going on," the man said quietly. "Whatever's causing this new surge of Darkness in the SND network, what's making Chaos restless."

"Not Heartless?" Reeve supposed, concerned. Vincent hesitated, shook his head.

"No. Chaos would recognise Heartless. This is something new, something… _interesting." _It wasn't his word – it was the beast's, that which dwelled within. Chaos was _interested. _It was like a new, fresh scent filling the air. A new brand of cruelty that the monster desired to dip into, like a humming bird with a tasty nectar to sample. A hound with blood on its muzzle, trying to figure out where it spilled from.

"Whatever it is," broke in Tifa tightly, "it's dead now. We need to get Aerith, like Vincent said."

"Yeah," Cloud agreed faintly. "And… we need to tell Leon. He'll want to know when he gets back…" He was sweating. The illness wouldn't hit for another half-hour, most likely, but the knowledge of it made him appear as if he were already in its grip. He heaved a breath, as a short silence fell across them, all eyes resting momentarily on the large bird, still nursed by Cait, who carefully laid it out for better inspection. One couldn't tell by looking that it carried such a plague.

Innocent-looking fucker – as much as a monster crow could be, at least.


	5. Chapter 5

**Writer: finem**

Cold. The first thing he noticed was the damp chill that seemed to permeate his flesh, seeping down to his bones and making them ache. There was something strange about this cold. It didn't seem to quite be natural; it was more somehow...darker.

That was all that filled Sora's mind as he struggled back to consciousness. He was cold in more than one way. The stones that he was apparently lying on were doing a fair job of sapping him of any heat he might have still retained, but the chill in the air went soul deep. He couldn't put it into words, wasn't even really sure what he was thinking. It was all he could think about though, that is until a rasping croak called out his name.

"Sora? Are you alright?"

The voice seemed very far away somehow. He knew that it was familiar, but he couldn't quite pull his mind together enough to figure out who it was, or why it was important that he answer.

"Sora, c'mon man! You gotta wake up. We gotta get out of here!?"

Panic. There was clear panic in that voice now. Why panic?

_Creeping creeping. Undergrowth. Swooping dark shadows. Terror. Cold. Darkness._

"Riku!" Sora snapped fully into wakefulness as it all came swarming back to the front of his memory. "What happened? What's going on?"

"Well it sure took them long enough to snap out of it," a new voice drawled from the shadows around them, and Sora was suddenly hyper aware of their surroundings. The room was dim, lit only by a single dirty bulb hanging directly above them. Power? In the old mansion? That made no sense.

He inched his way over to a disheveled looking Riku who was searching the darkness for the source of the voice. The older boy's eyes were wide with terror. Sora had never seen him like that before, and any courage Sora thought he might have had began dissolving at the utter helplessness he could see on his friend's face.

"Oh look," the same voice purred again, "I think the little one's going to cry."

"I'm sure that's exactly what we need at this point in time." This was a new voice, a rich baritone that sounded more than a little irritated. "Vexen, will these suit you?"

"Yes," a third voice replied, high pitched and detached in an almost clinical way. "They'll do nicely. Bring the larger one to me, but save the other in case of complications."

"What?!" Riku cried out, still trying to see through the darkness, but the world seemed to blink and just like that, he was gone. Terror like Sora had never known could exist in him before blossomed, dark and real in his chest; choking, suffocating. He wanted to know what was going on, where he was, what they were planning to do with Riku, what they were planning to do with _him,_ who _they_ even were...but he couldn't speak a word, mind numbed with fear and panic. He was gasping for breath, tears stinging his eyes as a few forced their way out.

"And what shall we do with this one, now?" The first voice, the only female among them, spoke again filling the room with malice and dark intent.

"I haven't a clue, my dear, but you sound like you have an idea," the baritone spoke in answer.

"He's just so..." Sora jumped, crying out as a chill like fingers moved over his body, tears falling in earnest now. "..._pure,_" the female finished in a hiss. Sora felt like he had just been violated in the basest way.

"Mmm...his terror is so delicious," she continued, "imagine the things we could do with him, Marly, how much fun would could have...corrupting him. I wanna see it when that fluttering little light of his goes out."

Sora was having a difficult time getting air around his gasping sobs. What was happening? What were they planning to do with him? From the sounds of it, maybe it would be better if he just suffocated and died there in the darkness. Oh God...

"Do what you like, Larxene," the clinical voice spoke again, "but just remember, I need him alive in case the other one doesn't meet my needs."

"Of course Vexen...I wouldn't dream of letting this one escape me so easily."

"Shelke," Vincent spoke in hushed tones to the girl who sat back in silent contemplation after pulling her mind in from the SND, "what did you see?"

A longer moment of silence passed, and Vincent winced as Chaos stirred.

"Something is happening," she said at last. "There is living darkness, hidden light that has amazing potential if revealed, all brought together by...something else. A new power is waking."

"To what end?" The signs were not good; the mutated creature from before, the agitation of Chaos, the concern in the eyes of the woman-child in front of him. She looked into his eyes, and hers were haunting.

"I wish I knew," she whispered. "But if this power is for darkness, and it somehow takes this light, chaos will reign. It could mean the end of all things."

"Then how do we stop it?" Vincent asked, solemn. Shelke turned from him, eyes growing distant.

"I don't know."


	6. Chapter 6

**Writer: Israelproject**

Naminé sat in her white room, a drawing pad clutched to her chest as her eyes travelled over the scene in her mind. The pencil in her fingers moved absently across the paper, though her gaze was over the room, fixed absently on the wall. She heard the grunts and cries of the silver-haired teen that had been captured – Riku, his name was – echo within the walls of her skull. Her lips quirked downward slightly, as she wondered if he would do. She watched him be wrestled onto the table in Vexen's laboratory, watched as they tore his clothes away and starting connecting various sensors to his bare, no doubt icy flesh. She wondered at that; as he shivered desperately, as much from the barren cold as his terror, she wondered what it was like to feel like that. To her, the manor was of a temperate nature, neither hot not cold. The closest thing to real heat she had ever experienced was whenever Axel hugged her – despite his undead structure, some part of him had managed to retain a flame of life… illusion, she wondered? Born from his erratic energy? Or something that refused to give in entirely to the living death they had all been granted?

The pencil continued to scratch away at the page, as she observed from her isolated eyrie at the very top of the manor, its broad window forever obscured whether it was light or night outside. She watched as, in order to frighten the boy into submission, Vexen revealed his long fangs, eyes turning sickly yellow, hissing impatiently at the writhing, breathing creature. Riku froze as if someone had found a switch to his effervescence and flicked it into the 'off' position. Naminé's lips pursed unconsciously, some part of her protesting, even now, to such a loss of life, even if it wasn't permanent. Some would say that she had come far too far along the road to damnation to care now about one pitifully short-lived human stilling himself out of sheer, cold terror, but she couldn't help but… _feel. _Yes, she was _feeling _for this boy. It was a rare sensation, one which she clung to wistfully.

Riku started moving again, violently, as Vexen returned to his side with a long needle, but the expertly clinical man had inserted it and squirted its juices deep into his veins before he could muster enough fight to battle him off. Naminé _felt _again – sadness, now. Because that was the end of Riku, as far as she was concerned. The process had begun. His eyelids stuttered, widened, brilliantly-coloured irises rolling briefly before vanishing under a cover of thin flesh. His every muscle went quiet, and finally Vexen could work on him without the irritating disruption of the much-heard-of survival instinct.

Not bothering to hover any longer over this vision, the pale girl shifted her mind away, resting briefly in the white room. Her fingers paused, the scratch of the pencil giving way to silence. She took a breath, let it go slowly, hoping at least that the shell that was built from the sample this doomed-to-die boy gave would be enough for her to manipulate to her own will. Now, she sent her thoughts spiralling out again, ghosting through the manor on invisible wings, skirting the corners and corridors in search of the other pulse that existed within its walls.

She found the second boy – Sora, he was called – in the basement. He had been removed from his dungeon captivity, was in the claws of… no less than Larxene. The woman had stripped him to the waist – he was – hanging from his wrists, arms stretched high above his head, toes dangling a bare half-inch from the ground. Every now and then, he twitched as if he was trying to strain downward just that last, tormenting little bit, just to take some of the pressure away from his shoulders. But the female vampire knew precisely what she was doing, had left no possible avenue of relief. Bloody scores marked the flesh of his torso, trickling slowly, already half-congealed. She had been at it for a little while, then, Naminé surmised with disapproval. Possibly since Riku had been grabbed away nearly an hour ago. Small, breathless whimpers escaped the boy, but the time for tears had obviously long passed. From her vantage point, the girl couldn't see his eyes, suddenly wanted to. Her mind delved deeper into the room, cautious of the blonde woman that skulked in the shadows with her vicious pleasures in the pain of others, knowing that if she strayed too close to her, she would be sensed. At this point in time, it was important that Naminé's actions remain entirely her own, the knowledge that she garnered unknown to the others of the godforsaken place. Naminé peered up into the face of the boy, studied the glassy quality of his eyes, that hazy, empty look of desolation. She fretted – this wasn't good for him, not at all. She wasn't ready for him to be broken yet, there wouldn't be another chance to lure others in his stead, and his friend was already lost to the machinations of the lab.

Swiftly, Naminé withdrew, almost bumping directly into Marluxia. She was startled, her astral-self spinning away from the sudden charge of energy. She hadn't seen him – had he only just arrived, or had he found a way to mask himself from her? He, of all of them, knew her powers the most intimately, even if that was only a fraction of what she chose to reveal. She hesitated before retrieving her mind from that dark, dank room, to see if he had noticed her. His eyes had narrowed, were darting about, and when Larxene started to say something, he silenced her with a sharp motion. He was searching.

Naminé had seen enough – she drew the threads of her consciousness sharply back into her body, placed the pencil down with finality, letting out a low breath and lowering the drawing pad firmly to her clamped-together knees. Her pale blue eyes went thin, a frown working onto her features as she puzzled out all that she had witnessed. A dark shape moved behind her, uncommonly patient, a hand dropping to her shoulder and squeezing. "How's it all going?" Axel asked casually. Her lips pressed tightly together.

"Things are happening much like we expected," she said quietly. "But the boy in the basement… Sora…"

"The weeny kid? I heard they're using his partner to build the soulless being."

"That's right. He's being worked on now, Vexen has him sedated." She turned her head, looked up with concern into the bright, amused green eyes gazing back. "But – Axel – the boy in the basement. Larxene has him… she's going to break him."

The redhead released his grip on her, throwing his hands wide and then folding them behind his back. Laughter in his voice, he look a long step past her, bending at the waist to look into her face, asking, "So? What's the problem with one little mortal boy being added to the pile? Aside from the fact that we need him in case something goes wrong with his friend," he allowed. He grinned toothily. "But, hey – plenty more humans where those two came from, right?"

Naminé suppressed her frustration, reminded herself that, even with Axel, she must be wary of revealing too much. He didn't know that the two in question had been called specifically; didn't know that either of their deaths would be a tragedy, as far as she was concerned. Instead, she drew a calming breath, held up one shaking hand for them both to look at. "I don't… think I could handle so much pain in the air," she said weakly. "And these two – I know their minds now. The thought of the strain of touching so many different mortals just because Larxene can't restrain herself…" She shivered at the thought, not exaggerating. They were her food; their memories and souls were her purpose in life, the manipulation thereof… but no one realised just how much it hurt her to touch someone on such a deep level. She had expended a great deal of energy familiarising herself with the energy signatures, the spirits, of the two in question, those lone heartbeats in amongst the stillness – if all those efforts turned out to be for nothing, she would be weakened by the experience. Not just from how much of herself she had spent, but from the discouragement, the sense of failure…

As far as Naminé was concerned, their lives were now her responsibility. That was the sentiment, was it not? To save someone's life is to then be responsible for that person… well, if Naminé achieved what she hoped to, ultimately, then the lives of those two boys _would _be saved, along with the lives of billions of others.

To want to merge Earth and Hell… how utterly preposterous of Marluxia to ever assume such a thing.

And yet… it was his driving force for having split from the coven in the first place. If he could do this, use Naminé to do this, he would be lord of the new domain, and need never fear Xemnas' wrath again. The girl had to admit, being away from Xemnas was a blessing in its own right; she could only imagine the cruel ways he would utilise her talents, given the opportunity. Marluxia at least was blinded by his own hubris and gentility enough to dream grand enough to treat her decently.

She still didn't much like the manor; the queer energy she'd sensed on that first day here lingered, and she felt that, in some way or another, it _was _infecting them… Larxene, she was certain, was far more bloodthirsty in this place than she had been under Xemnas. This was why Naminé feared for Sora. She knew that Larxene was too close to Marluxia to ever invoke any true wrath for breaking the rules, and so would do completely as she willed.

The pale girl simply couldn't let this happen. She turned pleading eyes up to Axel, who had grown sombre at the reminder of her frailty. Strong of mind, strong of spirit, that elusive creation that usually fled the instant a vampire was born, but so feeble of flesh that, at times, it was frightening. He took her seriously now. "…Okay," he said after a beat. "I'll go stop her."

"Marluxia's down there also," the girl hastened to inform him. Axel paused, tilted his head to the side in thought, then grinned, teeth flashing in the whiteness.

"Well, that just makes it more entertaining for me, doesn't it?" He swept down, pecked her on the cheek, then vanished through a dark portal, momentarily marring the perfection of the room. As the last wisps died away, Naminé turned her gaze at last down to the image she had rendered during her observations. Looking back at her was a girl. At first, Naminé was almost puzzled – the girl's features were so similar to her own that it could have been a self-portrait. Gradually, she noticed slight differences between them, not the least of which was the faint shading she had put over the hair to denote colour of some kind. Her thin fingers rose hesitantly to touch her own faded locks, dry to the touch, while the picture-girl's had an obvious gloss of health. Those same pale fingers fluttered uncertainly across the image, something akin to _feeling _echoing in her still, narrow chest. "You are… the other side of my heart," she murmured in confusion. "…Aren't you?"

Alone in the white room, the girl pulled the drawing pad up against herself, tucking her chin over its edges, clutching it close. For a long moment, deep and desperate sorrow was etched upon her features. Blue eyes slid shut, and a rare, pink-tinted bead of fluid welled from one, trickled down the contours of her skin. A small, reluctant smile twitched the corners of her mouth upward. "It feels almost warm," she whispered to the emptiness. She reached up to touch the tear, caught it carefully without breaking its delicate covering, and lowered the drawing once more. Hesitating for just a moment, she quickly tapped her fingertip down onto the paper, smeared it… and, just like that, the other side of Naminé's heart had red hair.


End file.
